Well, it might have been a bluebird, I don’t know But he’d get stone drunk and talk about Alaska
The salmon boats and 45 below
He got that blue wing up in Walla Walla Where his cellmate there was a Little Willy John And Willie, he was once a great blues singer And Wing & Willie wrote him up a song
(They sang,)
“It’s dark in here, can’t see the light But I look at this blue wing when I close my eyes And I fly away, beyond these walls Up above the clouds, where the rain don’t fall
He had a blue wing tattooed on his shoulder Well, it might have been a bluebird, I don’t know but he’d get stone drunk and talk about Alaska The salmon boats and 45 below
Well, he got that blue wing up in Walla Walla and his cellmate there was a Little Willy John and Willie, he was once a great blues singer so Wing & Willie wrote him up a song
I can’t think of bluebirds without thinking of Tom Russell’s song, “Blue Wing” — one of my favorite. Both help me see the sky above.
— kenne
Blue Wing by Tom Russell
He had a blue wing tattooed on his shoulder Well it might have been a bluebird I don’t know But he’d get stone drunk and talk about Alaska The salmon boats and 45 below
He said he got that blue wing up in Walla Walla And his cellmate there was Little Willy John And Willy he was once a great blues singer And Wing and Willy wrote ’em up a song. They said…
CHORUS: It’s dark in here; can’t see the sky But I look at this blue wing and I close my eyes And I fly away beyond these walls Up above the clouds where the rain don’t fall On a poor man’s dream.
They paroled Blue Wing in August, of 1963 He moved north picking apples to the town of Wenatchee Then winter finally caught him in a run down trailer park On the south side of Seattle where the days grow gray and dark
And he drank and he dreamt of visions when the salmon still ran free And his fathers’ fathers crossed that wild old Bering Sea And the land belonged to everyone and there were old songs yet to sing Now it’s narrowed down to a cheap hotel and a tattooed prison wing
CHORUS: It’s dark in here; can’t see the sky But I look at this blue wing and I close my eyes And I fly away beyond these walls Up above the clouds where the rain don’t fall On a poor man’s dream.
Western Bluebird — Image by kenne
Becoming is Superior to Being 